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Jormaw
Name: Jormaw Age: 32 Race: Archein (Argonian) Gender: Male Height: 6'1" Birthsign: The Atronach Appearence: Slightly mesomorphic in build, has a long gator-like snout, ridged scales going from the tip of the nose to the end of his thick and long tail, the base of his short stubby legs are given expanded feet for keeping balance in mud, his claws are webbed- showing an amphibious ancestry. He'd also hold himself in a hunched position due to his age. Colour wise his scaled skin is covered in a dark murky texture of brown, the underside of his neck, stomach and tail are of a lighter, almost bleached shade; with his upper ridged scales being a tinge of dark grey and what could be described as moss green. His slit eyes are covered in a light coat of black, which aid Jormaw in finding prey in the watery abyss, wherever they may be lurking. Occasionally he will apply a mixture of bird dung and specific tree sap to his face to form a temporary, plain white, ritualistic tattoo. Class: Fisherman | Fugitive Skills: He has expertise in most hand-to-hand techniques and is moderately proficient in the use of the blade. Both were practiced in his time among the Ukoa-Sieen and of course his former occupation as a sellsword to wealthy nobles. He can also be said to be skilled in cooking and preparing seafood or even forming basic herbal mixes to cure ailments. Apparel: He'll casually appear to wear a garb of Durzog leather: including a ripped kama with two Rootworm grubs hanging off each side- both of which are next to the large tail. Two bands hang just beneath his knee and elbowcaps that are of woven bandage make. Underneath those bands are fur shorts and a wrinkled tunic of the aforementioned Durzog leather; conjoined with this is a set of cloth made shoulderpads made in vertical layers of flapped material. Sometimes he will wear a scarf of an albino Netch's leather for the cold climate as well. One sling satchel is carried so that he can luggage any of his coin or needed materials around. The Argonian appreciates the addition of beaded or feathered embroidery to the depths of his apparel. When fishing or in the water he will strip down to be only wearing his kama, fur shorts and his bands. Weapons: The young lizard prefers to keep his poison dipped claws as his weapons, but when needed he'll draw his self crafted dagger; shaped from the tooth of a sea-drake and hilted with a single exposed root's stub. He may also wield his bloodied carving knife into combat. Miscellaneous: A carving knife, some insect bait, a satchel full of medical supplies and materials, a tool belt. Personality: Jormaw is a comfortable individual to get along with, if a little paranoid and alien-minded at times. Like most of his age, he has a decent amount of life experience, making him a perceptive person to be around. Although he can definitely be stubborn in his views, but wields a sharp, protective attitude to those whom he trusts. His greed can get in the way of goals, as well as his quick-wit and boggled temperament do in getting in the way of the 'land-striders' at the most conveniently helpful of moments. Major flaw: Jormaw is reclusive about his nature and secretive about his past, but a bad liar when it comes down to it. He isn't very appreciative of any sort of authority figure and will seek to undermine them if a chance crops up. History: Jormaw is not the usual archein of Black Marsh. He lived as an outcast in the swamps near Lilmoth for much of his life, cast out of his tribe, Ukoa-Sieen, due to consorting with the dark folk of the north. From here his life would change inevitably, once he had found a well paying job as a mercenary to a representative of an Ann-Xileel patron. Such a career gave him brief moments of respite for his bravery in bringing Black-Marsh back into the isolationistic comfort of the Hist, even if he did not know about this himself. Such work had even brought him to many different provinces at times, where he learned the common tongue of Tamriel. In these provinces he befriended the strange beyond and learned their ways. In time, he found some comfort akin to that found within the Ukoa-Sieen. But war changes any man's heart to soil in time, so did this happen to Jormaw. An event which occured when he was about to take the head off a lone Redguard smith, as he was payed to do. However at that time, a little girl of maybe nine or ten stopped in him in his path, whom fighted at his bare stomach and begged him not to kill her father. A flash of memory, a realization of sorts came to him just then.. The child was reminiscent to himself when he was her age. Prideful, headstrong, commanding. He remembered back to a day when he lost a spear head. He had bribed and begged the Ukoa-Sieen's mystic to help him locate it, as it was the one memory that he had left of the father he never knew. The mystic smiled, gave the stalwart young man a wink, then passed him merely a riddle to ponder on: "The spear is headless; but is it rusted or lost?" Jormaw dropped his blade to walk untill he was tired, then he rested, before getting up to stroll again. Soon he would be in cold provinces, now a wayfarer. The man would not know or care, for he had riddles of his past to set his mind on. His destination herein was unknowable. He wanted time to think and rest.